Snowfall
by ProphesyGirl
Summary: Yuki's on vacation for a week ... Shuichi POV


"Snowfall"  
  
by Prophesy Girl  
  
It's snowing.  
  
And I can only sit here as the cold white stuff piles up around my feet, and think of how you'd describe the scene around me. What kinds of words would you use to tell everyone about waiting here? Would you say the snow dances, or floats, or flutters, or just plain falls?  
  
The snow falls. Sure.  
  
Snow falls like stars, tiny glittering stars.  
  
Maybe I should stick to lyrics.  
  
And I know my feet are swinging beneath the bench, swinging like I've got no control over them, because you're the one I'm waiting for.  
  
You're the one I've *been* waiting for. And soon you'll be here, radiant and golden, icy crystals melting in your sunshine-shocked hair. And your eyes like liquid metal will look all around til you find me 'cuz I'll stick out like a bright thing in the cold snow and then -  
  
-- No, it won't be that way at all. I know these feet I can't control will leap up as soon as I know you're near - before I even really see you - and they'll take me running to you, because they can't believe that you're mine, either.  
  
And you'll let me hold you for a split second just before you lecture me about having some sense of decency in public.  
  
I'm still not sure why you're so concerned about "public", 'cuz they know about us, and it doesn't matter doesn't matter doesn't matter because you're mine and you're wonderful and you're here or at least you will be very soon.  
  
The snow keeps falling.  
  
And I start to think maybe I'll write a song about this but it's very hard to write with mittens on - I was prepared and wore my mittens, because it's snowing, and you'll be so proud to see how I remembered and I'm not so dumb after all. You won't say anything, of course, but you will be proud ... I know it.  
  
And it's coming down harder now, so it'll be harder to see you when you'll come through the falling stars like a beacon or a ghost, I'm not sure which ...  
  
I can't feel my toes anymore. My fingers are starting to go numb inside my mittens. But you'll be here soon, just like you said, and then we can go home, Yuki, then we can go home. And I can make hot chocolate and you'll turn on the fireplace and we'll sit on the couch wrapped in blankets, and your arms will be around me, and I'll rest my head on your shoulder and then the snow won't matter.  
  
Because we'll be together.  
  
That's all that matters.  
  
You said you'd be here, Yuki, right where we first met. And I'm starting to worry because you *said* you'd be here and you're *not* and I don't know where you are and I'm starting to get cold because the snow is leaking through my shoes and what if you forgot and my eyes are leaking hot again and I want your arms around me to hold me and tell me it's okay and I can't even pretend because of the snow.  
  
But you wouldn't even hold me, you'd just tell me I was being dumb and make me walk behind you as you lead the way back home.  
  
I miss you, Yuki.  
  
I don't know what I would do if you ever forgot about me. If you ever decided to just leave me here all by myself, almost drowning in the snowfall ... And I start to worry that maybe you really have forgotten about me, and just as the thought flutters across my mind like the breeze in the snow, there's a shadow looming just beyond the range of my vision and it's you, Yuki, it must be you, because I can't think of anyone else who would be here, who would be out at this hour in this freezing cold.  
  
But it's not you, and the stranger walks past me, leaving crunchy footprints behind. I watch him leave as though I'm watching you walking, and as his form heads down the road I count his footsteps, counting all the steps you took away from me, and I don't know why you left me here.  
  
I don't know why you make me wait. Maybe you've been in an accident, and you're in a ditch somewhere, and you've been hurt, and you're drowning in the snow, and the blood is covering you ...  
  
I shake my head, try to clear that thought from my mind. If you were hurt I'd know, wouldn't I? You'd find a way to tell me, wouldn't you?  
  
Right. So you're not laying in a ditch somewhere by the side of the road with the broken glass and crunched metal of the cars all -  
  
No. You're fine. You're just ...  
  
... not here. And maybe you're not coming at all. Maybe you're not coming because - not because you forgot - but because you think that if you leave me out here then you won't have to deal with me coming back with you and being the burden that I am and being stupid and redundant and ...  
  
... and ...  
  
... and. And I don't know. But you do put up with me, don't you? You put up with me and you love me, right?  
  
Because I couldn't stand it if I had to live without you, you know. I couldn't stand ...  
  
When are you going to be here? You *have* to be here ... because you *promised* ....  
  
* * *  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"I promise," you reply. "I'll be back in a week." You grab your jacket from the closet by the door and pull it on. And your hand's on the door and you're slipping your shoes back on and you're going to leave me all by myself for an entire week and I don't know what I'm going to do without you and before I can think of anything to say I can only react -  
  
I throw my arms around you as though that alone could keep you grounded here - could keep you here with me, in our house, together. And I capture your mouth with mine, leaving my seal on you.  
  
Your hand brushes the side of my face, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. For a moment it looks like maybe you've changed your mind and you're going to stay after all. But your shoes and jacket don't come off, and you just turn your face from me and repeat, "I'll be back in a week."  
  
I can only blink in disbelief - certainly you don't mean this, surely you can't really be leaving me behind, all by myself. "Yuki -"  
  
And you turn on your heel, your eyes glaring golden and impatient, and I'm two inches tall, I'm a puddle on the ground, I'm unimportant and I can't hold a candle to your radiance. "What?"  
  
I dally - I can't possibly suggest -  
  
"Goodbye, Shuichi." And your words are cold and dismissive and you're halfway out the door and -  
  
"Take me with you," I implore.  
  
Without turning to look at me you state your case simply. "No."  
  
"But Yuki - "  
  
"I'll be back in a week."  
  
"Yuki -"  
  
Sighing, you turn once more and your eyes are on mine again and I'm this close to helpless and completely unable to speak. And you don't say anything, only glare, and I - I have to say something now, or I won't be able to get it out, and I want it to be special when you get back, and if I don't just *talk* then -  
  
"Meet me in the park," I blurt. "Where we - where we met. The first time. Meet me there, Yuki? Please? When you get back," I append quickly.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Really?" I'm unable to control my excitement and I find my uncontrollable feet propelling my body towards you. And my arms clasp around your neck and I think I don't want to let you go, ever. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you."  
  
"Shuichi." And you're saying my name and I love the way it sounds on your lips and I want you to say my name again and - "Shuichi." There, you said it again, and it's *my* name and you're all *mine*, and ... "Shuichi, I'm going to be late. Get off me."  
  
Meekly, I oblige, and the contact breaks and I'm starting to feel cold without you already.  
  
But you lean in close and rest your hand ever so lightly on the side of my face and your molten eyes and honey lips and golden hair are coming ever closer to me and the next thing I know your mouth is on mine, and you pause, and you're about to leave, and I can't bear that thought, and then you deepen the kiss, your lips and tongue devouring mine right there, and when that sweet moment ends, and your liquid fire eyes are staring into mine, and I'm helpless, you whisper, "One week. I promise. Goodbye."  
  
And then you're out the door and gone and the great big house is even bigger and colder and lonlier in the second since you left. But I only have to get through the week. I only have to get through the week. It's only one week ....  
  
* * *  
  
"A whole week?" I stand up from my seat at the table in disbelief, as my hands come crashing down on its wooden surface, rattling the dishes.  
  
But you don't remove your eyes from the morning paper, and quietly sip your coffee. "It's just a week. You'll live."  
  
"But it's a whole week!" I exclaim. You can't possibly understand how it is for me, how hard it will be to go a whole entire week without you. "That's seven whole days! I can't - I can barely make it through *one* day without you here! The house will be so cold and empty and lonely and if that's the house then just think of the -"  
  
"Can't make it through one day?" you repeat, beautiful golden eyes peering over the top of your newspaper.  
  
"No!" I affirm. "Just one day without you - I can't imagine seven! Why do you have to go away for so long, Yuki? Why do you have to go away at all? What am I supposed to do without you?"  
  
You fold the newspaper, considering my frantic form with half-narrowed eyes as you light a cigarette. "Rent a movie," you reply, and I'm not sure if that's the kind of movie you mean or not, or if you're really being serious about that ...  
  
Whatever your intent, your comment stings a bit, and I glance at the tabletop and hear the pain in my own voice when it finally emerges. "I mean it, Yuki. I ... I don't know, I just -"  
  
"You'll deal." And you take another long drag on your cigarette and tip the ashes into the glass ashtray that's already half-filled with half-chewed cigarette butts.  
  
"But Yuki, I *can't* just 'deal', I'm not -"  
  
"You'll deal," you repeat, and by saying it twice it's almost a sort of promise. Or like your words are a magic contract that dictate my future behavior - if Yuki says I can deal, then I certainly can deal.  
  
"Well, I still don't understand why you have to go away at all."  
  
You smash the remains of the cigarette into the ashtray. "I'm not expecting you to understand." Nor do you seem to be really elaborating, and I can't really ask that much more of you, your words dismiss the issue and leave me floating, sort of hanging, sort of deflated ...  
  
* * *  
  
"It's deflated," I observe. The bright yellow balloons had been sitting atop the dining room table for a week, attached to a huge flower arrangement that we'd received to congratulate our newest single hitting number one. I'd thought it was great - it was so big, so colorful, certainly it would make your apartment just a little warmer. You said it was 'garish' and an 'eyesore', but you let me leave it on your table anyway.  
  
"Then throw it out," you reply as you breeze past me from the kitchen, cold brown bottle in your hand. I watch you walk towards your office, and after you disappear behind the door, I turn back to the balloon arrangement on the table.  
  
"But the flowers aren't wilted yet," I tell you. "We could keep the flowers, but I don't know what to do about the balloons...."  
  
"They'll die eventually," you call from the office, "just throw it out."  
  
I pull the balloons by their ribbons out from the basket, and let them lie limp on the wooden table. "But Yuki, they're so pretty." I leave the balloons on the table and carry the huge arrangement down the hallway and into your office. "See, Yuki? They're so pretty. Maybe I could leave them in here for you; you could see them all the time, and they'd make your office so much brighter. It's so dark in here - why don't you ever turn the light on?" I set the flowers on the corner of your desk and flip on the lightswitch. "That's so much better! Now I can see you, and you can see me, and you don't have to live in the dark all the time!"  
  
"Go away."  
  
I know you don't mean that, because you always say things like that. You always say that you want me to go away, but I know that you don't. You just don't show it. I throw my arms around you from behind, press my head into your shoulder, and never let you go.  
  
"Shuichi..."  
  
"Yes, Yuki?" I nuzzle your neck softly, and leave a few gentle kisses there.  
  
"Shuichi, I'm trying to write."  
  
You're always trying to write. I think you need a break from writing. I nip at your earlobe and lean over your shoulder as I crane my neck around to look at your face.  
  
Your eyes are focused on the screen in front of you, and you're trying to ignore me again. Why are you always trying to ignore me? Don't you understand that I love you, Yuki?  
  
"You're distracting me." Your hand flies from the keyboard and towards my face, and pushes my head away from yours.  
  
I don't know why you act like this. I kind of wish that you wouldn't, but then, if you were never cold then I would never get to enjoy the softer personality that you have hiding inside you. That's *my* Yuki, that's the one you never show anyone else. And I suppose that if I let you write, then sooner or later I'll see *my* Yuki again - better sooner, of course. I leave you with a kiss - as my mouth meets yours you pull my head towards you and your tongue brushes my lips - a promise that I'll get to see you later.  
  
My Yuki.  
  
"Now go away."  
  
I don't want to go. I don't want to spend another hour, another minute away from you. I don't know what I would do if you ever left me alone for too long. I don't think I could take it. I need you, Yuki.  
  
I need you. 


End file.
